


my black and deep desires

by ghostofgatsby



Series: I'd kill for you. I'd die for you. I'd live for you. [13]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Car Sex, Death, Drowning, Fae & Fairies, Fae manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Urban Magic Yogs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:23:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3550865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofgatsby/pseuds/ghostofgatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Sips almost drowned, the Garbage Court has been high strung and murderous. Trott is getting nowhere close to finding out who had put the hit out on Sips, and he knows the entire incident has negatively affected his whole court. In particular, something isn’t right with Smith.</p><p>“Something’s on your mind, isn’t it?” He pets the side of Smith’s face, feeling the roughness of his beard.<br/>"I keep...seeing Sips." The kelpie starts, reaching up and lacing his fingers with Trott's. He lets them fall to his lap. "Every time I...drown someone."</p>
            </blockquote>





	my black and deep desires

**Author's Note:**

> Smith murders someone and drags their body into the river. He keeps seeing flashes of Sips.
> 
> sequel to "within the hollow crown that rounds the mortal temples of a king"  
> not necessary to read it, but would provide some clarification as to what happened before.
> 
> CW: Drowning, murdering, getting off on murdering someone via drowning, death, and sex!  
> If there’s anything else I need to mention, let me know.
> 
> want to reblog? check this out: https://ghostofgatsby13.wordpress.com/2015/10/16/my-black-and-deep-desires-ghostofgatsby/
> 
> “Stars, hide your fires: Let not light see my black and deep desires: The eye wink at the hand; yet that be Which the eyes fears, when it is done, to see.”  
> -Act I, Scene V, lines 50-53 of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Macbeth wrestles with the thought of killing the king after he is praised and awarded for his prowess in war
> 
> http://ladycrappo.com/post/132686858226/regal-as-fuck  
> a possibility for Trott's nails

Trott let out a screech and chucked his phone at the wall without even hanging up. It hit the plaster with a resounding smash and bits of the case shattered onto the floor. He’d been at it all day, trying to bargain information. So far he was getting nowhere close to finding out who had put the hit out on Sips. There was a headache punching his eyes into his skull, and he was frustrated, pissed off, and tired.

The selkie grit his teeth together and stomped over to the phone. Though the case was destroyed the phone seemed okay save for a tiny chip in the corner. Resolutely, he called for a cab, tied his selkie skin round his waist, and left the apartment.

The salon was a small, white stucco building with blue shutters, and a sign over the door read “Stacy’s” in a cursive font. It had reminded Trott of lonely islands in Greece that he’d seen on travel shows. He’d found the salon one rainy, stressful day while riding the bus uptown for shopping reasons, and was surprised to find the place tidy, nice, and most importantly: quiet.

A few minutes after arriving he was reclined back having a mani-pedi with a face mask on. The cool press of the cucumber against his eyelids and the quiet talk of the girls doing his nails were enough to lull his worries.

He should do this more often.

Two of the girls were talking about an upcoming wedding.

“Do you know where you’re going for the honeymoon?”

“Paris!”

The other girls cooed appreciatively.

Paris. He’d never been to Paris. Nor anywhere in France. He imagined it would be nice, staying in a seaside cottage. Maybe somewhere close to Calais, with the cliffs of Dover standing tall like icebergs just across the sound. Having candlelit dinners with Sips; spending the days seeing museums and France’s amazing cathedrals with Ross. Walking the beach with Smith.

Trott could almost smell the sea, but the spa had a strong odor of strawberry shortcake, a new “relaxation” candle they were selling.

His mind flickered back to Sips, and Smith, and Ross. His boys; his court. His home.

The person who tried to kill Sips was _still out there_. And Sips was still vulnerable. Shit, maybe they all were. Who would dare mess with the king and his garbage court? Not any that he could think of off the top of his head. And so far the leads were non-existent...

“Alright there Mr. Trott?” One of the girls asked sweetly. Janice, he thought her name was.

His muscles had tensed up and he realized he was frowning. Scowling, really. He cleared his throat.

“Yes. Just fine, thanks.”

“What color would you like your nails?”

“Seafoam, please.”

“Oh, uh, we don’t have that color in stock right now...”

The _fuck_? How did they not have seafoam? They had like, a _gazillion_ colors to choose from every day!

“We’ve ordered some more but they haven’t shipped it to us yet. Is there another color you’d like?”

He let out a sigh. “How about cerulean and mint?”

“Sounds perfect!”

 _God_ , he was wrung out...

“Janice, why don’t you put a massage on my tab, too. I could really use it today...”

 

* * *

 

“You kids have fun now!” Smiffy flashed Ross a winning smile and a wink. The gargoyle smiled back with a soft look in his eyes as he leaned over to kiss Smith sweetly through the car window.

“Don’t keep Trott up too late waiting for ya, Smiffy!” Sips chided in a cheerful manner. Ross moved back from the car and looped his tail around their king’s forearm.

Smith just waggled his eyebrows at them. He slid his sunglasses on and drove off. His car thundered in the direction of the setting sun.

“Kelpies, am I right?” Sips chuckled.

Ross shook his head and Sips lead them inside.

The bar shakes with the thrumming bass of the music. Smith orders a whiskey and licks his lips as he watches the mass of grinding, dancing bodies move to the beat. He’d been dancing for an hour and a half. There’s an itch he has to scratch, but he hasn’t found someone yet.

The club was average-looking from the outside, but dark and gritty inside. The lights were all red, and the walls were ripped to hell. The floor was made of concrete and decorated with broken mirror pieces, and there were brass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, next to the flashing red lights. Most people were dressed in all black, like a vampire appreciation club.

 _Strange place...but I’m certainly not complaining..._ Smith thought, as a young man with a black faux-hawk walked up to the bar. He was all sharp edges: tall and thin, with low-rising jeans that hugged the curve of his ass.

“One martini, please.” The young man asked the bartender.

Smith leans back against the bar and smiles. “Hey there,” He greets.

The young man turns to look at him in surprise and over the rim of his glass they lock eyes. He freezes in place, enraptured. “Hello.”

 _Gotcha._ Smith gives a cheeky grin and slinks closer to his mark. “Come here often?”

The young man’s eyes are a bright and vivid green, and they don’t leave Smith’s face. He wants to see those eyes in the throes of passion, and he wants to watch the light leave them as he drowns.

“S-Sometimes.” He fiddles with his drink nervously, body turning towards Smith. “I’ve...never seen _you_ here before.”

“Maybe you just forgot.” The kelpie traces the rim of his glass with a finger and the man’s eyes dart down to his hand and back up again.

“I think I would have remembered someone so...catching as you.” He laughs and blushes and moves instinctively closer to Smith.

Smith reaches out to give a playful shove to his shoulder, chuckling. “You think I’m a catch?”

“I think-” The young man blushes more and bites his lip. “-you’re rather attractive, yeah.”

“I do have to say...” His voice drops softer and his mark leans in closer to hear. “ _You’ve_ certainly got my attention.” He winks and the man beams back, laughing shyly. Smith straightens his posture and takes a long drink of his whiskey, finishing it off.

“What’d you say your name was, love?” He asks with a smirk. His eyes burn darkly with desire.

“Dan.”

“What do you say we get out of here, Dan?” Smith extends his arm and offers his hand to the young man.

“I’d like that.” Dan sighs with a smitten smile, slipping his hand into Smith’s outstretched palm.

_Course you would. So trusting._

They leave Dan’s unfinished martini behind as they vacate the club.

 

* * *

 

He drives out towards the river and pulls up beside it where it runs next to a dimly-lit park.

Dan’s hands are on him the minute he puts the car in park and turns off the engine. Smith moans against the young man’s lips when he kisses him. He hears the seatbelt unclick and then he’s being straddled by a pair of legs.

“Someone’s eager...” He mutters, smiling into the shell of Dan’s ear.

Dan bites his lip and moans. Smith rubs his hand over the bulge in his jeans.

He bites kisses into the young man’s neck and they pry their jeans open. They wriggle out of their clothes far enough to free their cocks, and his hand slips down to fondle Dan’s ass.

Dan’s hands wrap around the both of them and start stroking. Smith reaches for the lube stashed between the seat. Their moans echo in the shell of the car.

“Want me to fuck you?” He asks breathlessly as he strokes his hand down Dan’s chest.

“ _Yes_.” Dan whispers. Smith bites hard into his shoulder and lets out a wavering moan. Smith’s tongue licks the bite mark before Dan is pulling his neck forward and thrusting his tongue in his mouth.

The kelpie sucks and kisses him back hard. He  reaches back to the young man’s ass, and trails a finger around the rim before pushing in.

“ _Fuck. Yes_.” Dan moans into his mouth, breaking away. “More. Please.”

Smith grins gleefully and presses a second finger in, stretching and curling just so. He stares into those vivid green eyes that are already hazed over in lust and charm. Dan whimpers and lets out another loud moan.

“ _Beautiful._..” Smith whispers. He adds a third finger.

“Fuck. I’m good, just-”

He curls his fingers again.

“ _Shit_ fuck- _fuck me_ , please...” Dan whines and pants.

The kelpie removes his fingers and replaces them with his cock.

Dan starts riding him unprompted, gasping and whimpering, and Smith moans in response.

“Fucking shit...so good.” He thrusts up into the tight warmth and grips Dan’s hips hard enough to bruise. “ _Yes_.”

“Fuck...” The young man whimpers. He kisses Smith again and clutches at his shoulders. His back is curved and he’s trying to keep his rhythm without hitting his head into the ceiling. “Harder...”

“ _With pleasure_ , love.” Smith laughs and sucks more bruises into Dan’s neck. One hand caresses the young man’s lower back and the other starts to stroke his cock.

The car shakes with their movement. Water starts to pool at Smith’s feet and climbs steadily higher and higher. Rising from his ankles to his knees in several moments, and increasing in speed.

“ _I’m so close_.” Dan cries, throwing his head back.

Smith strokes faster as the water rises to their chests. “ _Come for me, Dan_.”

The young man moans long and heartily and the water rises over their heads to lap at the roof of the car. He clenches around Smith’s cock as he comes.

“That’s it, love. That’s it...so good. Look at me.” His voice is distorted by the water.

Dan’s head drifts forward to catch his eyes, mouth gaping.

Smith grabs his hips again and fucks him faster, his own orgasm rushing up to meet him. The adrenaline is pumping through him as he stares hard into those green eyes. The last bits of breath are seeping from the young man’s lips.

“Fuck, yes!” His orgasm rips through him like an electrical current and he lets out a low groan. He feel almost out of his own body. When he comes back down, Smith shivers and his vision starts to clear again. He grins lazily as Dan’s body spasms and traces the young man’s lips with a thumb as he watches the light disappear from those pretty green eyes.

The kelpie lets out a long, pleased sigh. Relaxing back into the seat, he waits for a few moments to catch his breath. The body slowly slumps to the side, against the window pane. He flings open the driver's side door and pushes it unceremoniously as water gushes out with it. It lands ass up on the ground with a loud thump, legs still caught in the frame of the car. Smith kicks at it until they fall out, button’s up his jeans, and then climbs out to half drag, half carry the body the last few feet to the river.

He wades in until the oily water is up to his knees, and throws the body in (jeans down by its ankles) with a great splash.

Smith watches with a wry smile on his face. But he startles when he catches a glimpse of black hair plastered to the body’s face as it sinks--

_Sips._

_Sips’ body at the bottom of the pool, lips turning blue, a dead weight. He grabs him by his waist and starts to pull him upwards._

Smith stumbles backwards in shock and his foot catches on something in the riverbed. He trips, letting out a short scream, and falls into the water.

_Sips’ eyes, empty, staring back at him as he sinks into the dirty river. His hand is reaching up towards Smith, but before the kelpie can grab him he’s disappeared._

_Cold and slimy arms grab for him instead. Voices whisper about showing him the depths of his madness, see how he likes being drowned forever. Pulling him down, down, down, with all the bodies trapping him..._

Flailing, Smith kicks his legs until he breaks the waves and crawls back onto shore, panting and gasping heavily.

_Not again! Why does this keep happening?_

He can’t drown in his own river, but...

There’s some sort of kelp shackled to his ankles, and he frantically rips at the green ribbons until they’re gone. He looks back at the place where the body sank.

This isn’t the first time he’s seen Sips after he’s drowned someone. Ever since Sips had almost died, he saw him in every victim.

_It just keeps getting worse..._

His heart’s pounding in his chest and he’s terrified.

He knows the body wasn’t Sips, but he almost feels obligated to look. Almost. He’d have to dive straight to the bottom and try to see through all the sludge in order to double check.

Which he is never willingly doing, not this time of night. Not with the ghosts of his past haunting him too...

And it’s not Sips.

Smith stands, shakily, covered in mud and soaked in river water. The river has always been home, but with the industry the way it is, it’s smelly, polluted, and filled with garbage. The stench rolls off of him in waves and he gags. Talk about killing a high- usually right after a kill he smelled of sex and a clean river. Now he just smelled like shit.

The seat squelches wetly as he throws himself into his car. He’s got to get these...visions, nightmares, whatever they are, out of his head. The car roars to life and he peels away from the river. He depresses his foot down steadily until the pedal is flat to the floor, and the car is shooting down the street: heading towards the freeway to get as far away from the city as possible.

The kelpie drives, and drives, and drives.

 

* * *

 

When his mind stops racing and he can relax his grip on the wheel, Smith glances at the time on the dashboard.

 _Shit_. His eyes widen and he blinks somewhat unbelievingly at the clock. He was supposed to be home _hours_ ago. He’d done it before, and been gone later than this too, but Trott wasn’t going to be happy. Especially if Sips and Ross were back already...

The thought just added more weight to his mood. He groaned, muttered some expletives and turned on his turn signal. He pulled his car in the direction of an exit ramp to get off the freeway.

“I’m home!” He shouts, slamming the door shut. “Trott?”

Smith toes off his shoes and heads towards the light in the bedroom. He finds Trott propped up in bed reading.

The selkie glances up from his book and gives him that look over the rims of his reading glasses. The “I know you've murdered someone” look that reeks of disappointment and sadness.

_Can’t you just control yourself for once?_

Smith feels ten times worse and watches Trott morosely.

“You’re late, you know. Also, you smell like shit, mate.” He licks his thumb to turn a page in his book.

 _The river and it’s oily current. The moon’s reflection wavering on the surface of the river. Sips’ face in the depths_.

He shakes his head slightly to brush off the images floating before him. His gaze flickers down to where he’s scuffing his socks against the carpet, clenching his hands into fists.

“I know.” Smith’s eyes feel strained from staring into the headlights, and he rubs them tiredly. He shivers, cold and still completely drenched. “Are Ross and Sips still out?”

“Yeah. After shopping they went to get dinner, and to see some drag shows at an old bar Sips used to go to.”

“Alright then.” He’s not even hungry, though he didn’t eat dinner himself.

Trott glances up at him again, raising his eyebrows questioningly. He nods his head towards the bathroom. “Go on, go take a shower.” His fingers tap against the cover of the book, nails glinting in the light. “I’m not letting you over here until you do.”

Smith washes up, scrubs the muck and oil off of him, and finds Trott still reading when he’s done. He must have been to the spa, where he goes occasionally to de-stress, because his nails are all done up with cerulean and mint polish.

Trott looks up from his book and lifts the covers on the bed, smiling softly. “You can get in. Come on.”

The kelpie curls up under the covers and nuzzles his head contentedly into Trott's hip, which smells like cocoa butter. But the smell makes him feel worse, almost, reminded of the one time Sips bought a whole box of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies back from a fancy bakery. He and Ross had eaten the majority of the box and spent several hours bloated and groaning and complaining to Trott, who was having none of it. Sips, of course, couldn’t stop laughing. The memory brought a small smile to his lips, but it faded fast. There was an uncomfortable twisting in his gut that he though was less to do with hunger and more to do with guilt.

 

* * *

 

Trott turns a page on the book he's reading, aimed at finishing the chapter out, but breaks his eyes from the words to look at Smith, who isn't fidgeting with the drawstrings of Trott's pajamas like he normally would whenever the apartment is empty save for them.

"What's up sunshine?" Trott asks, looking at him and frowning slightly.  Normally Smith would be grinning about his latest catch, goading Trott to close his book and have a celebratory quickie before Ross and Sips got back.

Something isn’t...right.

"Smith?" Trott asks.

Smith hums, and Trott brushes his hand through his hair to tilt his head upward so he can catch his eyes.

"You're too quiet." Trott's forehead is scrunched up in concern as he watches Smith carefully. There’s something dark in those eyes, something that isn’t usually there.

He closes his book and puts it and his glasses aside. Smith sits up to curl into him and lean his head on Trott's shoulder. It isn't often that Smith simply cuddles, without any other show of affection.

It usually means something's bothering him.

“Smith, sunshine? Something’s on your mind, isn’t it?” He pets the side of Smith’s face, feeling the roughness of his beard. He can feel Smith swallow against his neck.

"I keep...seeing Sips." The kelpie starts, reaching up and lacing his fingers with Trott's. He lets them fall to his lap. "Every time I...drown someone."

Trott tries to keep his breathing even, too furious to speak, and squeezes Smith's hand gently to tell him to keep going.

"It's..."

Terrifying. Painful. A constricting, worried bother round his heart.

Smith trails off and Trott strokes his thumb back and forth across Smith's hand. He can feel their pulses beating together, if he concentrates hard enough.

"I've never had that happen. I've never been afraid that my magic could-"

 _Hurt someone?_ Trott grits his teeth to keep the anger in, and his grip on Smith's hand tightens. _You don't have to drown us to hurt us with it, Smith._

“A long time ago...long before I met you...” He continues, his voice dropping quieter.”...there wasn’t much of a city. But there was a girl.” Smith’s chest rises and falls shakily and he takes a breath in through his teeth. His tone is cold and hard like ice. “I was young, I didn’t understand my magic, my charm, I didn’t know the full scale of...what it could cause.”

“No one taught you?” Trott asked quietly.

“With my family, no.” He grinds his teeth and scoffs. “It wasn’t something you were taught, it was just something you _were_. My parents talked of charms but not of bodies.” He pushes his neck harder into Trott’s shoulder and tucks his head under Trott’s ear. “I...”

He’s silent for a long time, his hand crushing Trott’s own like a claw.

“...She drowned herself.” The words drip out in a weary whisper, like condensation on a window pane. “I had- charmed her and then the rain flooded the river. I didn’t see her for a time, and when the rain had stopped and I found her again....

“She was dead.”

Smith’s mind swims with blonde hair among the lilies, and the branches of a willow tree scratching against it’s bark.

“I stood there...and I thought...that she still-” He shakes his head back and forth and breathes burdensomely. “-she looked the same, just as beautiful _dead_ as she did alive. Somehow I wasn’t surprised to find her dead, but I couldn’t bear the thought that she’d ended up-”

He swallows thickly and squeezes his eyes shut. “Her body was _soaked_ in my magic, like it was mud. But I wondered....what it would have been like.”

The last part of Smith’s tale was so faintly whispered that Trott strained to hear it.

“ _To watch her die_....”

The kelpie presses the side of his face into Trott’s shoulder inhales shakily like he’s out of breath.

"How come you’ve never said anything?" Trott murmurs into the kelpie’s hair. He rubs his hand across Smith's hunched shoulders.

"I've never told _anyone_ , Trott. Not a _single soul_."

Something wet drips onto Trott’s collarbone. He pulls Smith closer, pulls his arms around him.

“Not long after that, I started charming more people. Instead of leaving I just...drowned them.” Smith said bitterly. “Every time I pulled the stakes higher and higher and eventually...

“I mean, it’s like second nature, it seems.” His shoulders rise and fall in a quick shrug. “The few times I’ve gone back to the river and seen my folks they talk openly about it now. Bragging.

“And I don’t know if I can stop, it’s like I get high on the thrill...I don’t know if I even _want to_.” He says in a rush. “I don’t know if I _can_ because it feels so good and it feels so wrong and I...” Smith brushes his fingers down over Trott’s nails, feeling the smoothness of the polish. “I enjoy it.” He lets out the longest wispy sigh and slumps against Trott heavily.

“Now I keep seeing Sips.” He mutters soundlessly.

Sips. The sight of Sips in that pool. Trott can’t help but shudder and shake his head minimally. “I haven’t had any luck today, Smith. I’ve been at it for weeks and I still can’t figure it out.” Trott sighs and rubs his cheek against the top of Smith’s head. “I _will_ find whoever has done it but I can’t help but feel so _lost_.”

“I’ve never had that happen.” Smith said in a small voice, punching the words out with every puff of air. His chest tightens with the effort of getting them past his lips as quick as he can. “Not with...her, though...the way I loved her is _nothing_ like the way I feel about you and Ross and Sips. It’s not the same. And it’s not like I want to drown any of you, I- It just never...occurred to me that it could...happen. You and Ross can’t drown...” He swallowed thickly. “...but _Sips_...”

Trott lets out a heavy breath. “None of us did.” He chuckled harshly and grimaced. “The person who did this must have a fuckin’ funny sense of humor.”

They sit quietly, just listening to each other breathe, for a long time. Smith sits up wearily when he hears the old wall clock in the kitchen chime the hour. Trott watches him carefully, staring into those eyes that scanned the room distractedly. You could see the tiredness in the kelpie’s frame, as if his bones were too heavy for his body.

Trott reaches over and pulls his carefully folded selkie skin off of the side table. “Lie down with me. You look exhausted.”

“I feel it.”

Smith reorients himself in the pile of blankets and pillows and sheets, burrowing under the covers and shaking his feet out the side. Trott turns off the light and throws his skin across the two of them, tucking the edges so he and Smith were cuddled tightly. He moves closer to him and rubs his hands over the kelpie’s tense shoulders.

They relax into the warmth and Trott kisses Smith’s temple, then his cheek, then his lips. When he pulls back slightly, Smith’s eyes still looked haunted.

“I’m not a good person, Trott.” He mutters.

 _Neither are we._ He refrained from rolling his eyes. He didn’t want to seem insensitive.

Trott lets out a weary sigh and finds Smith’s hand in the confines of the sheets.

“I don’t care about that, sunshine.” He said, stroking the kelpie’s cheek with his other hand. “It doesn’t matter how much darkness is in you. You’re ours. You know that right?”

Smith licks his lips and swallows thickly. “I know. I know that, Trott.” He presses his face into Trott’s shoulder again, and Trott runs his hand comfortingly down the nape of his neck.

“Sometimes I wonder if you do, Smith.”

“...I know.”

“You know I’d do anything I could to keep you, don’t you?”

“...I know...”

Trott pursed his lips together. _No you don’t_ , he wanted to say. _You don’t know just how much you’re mine. How much you’re Ross’ and Sips’._ He twined his fingers into the ends of Smith’s slightly damp hair, and nuzzles the top of his head. The air was warm and smelled of his selkie skin and Smith fresh out of the shower. Sea salt and ocean, moss and rain.

He felt Smith drift off, sleeping peacefully. Trott was just as tired but though his eyes were closed his mind couldn’t help but spin.

 _I wish you could understand that,_ He thought. Smith’s breath ghosted against his shoulder.

_How much I need you and how much you need me._

 

**Author's Note:**

> whenever I picture Smith dancing and picking up people, I always imagine the Jingle Jam Livestream Announcement Vid with the ridiculous arm waving and stuff.  
> like “hey there love, what’s your name? wanna get out of here? course you do!”  
> constantly dancing like that. lol.  
> it’s totally plausible, too. doesn’t matter what he’s doing, we’d just all be dead.  
> RIP NPC Dan
> 
> if you're wondering what Smith's talking about with the young girl all those years ago, read "wear your rue with a difference"


End file.
